


The Sound of Thunder(birds)

by TsarinaTorment



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, John and Gordon are also around but only in mention, Not calling her an oc because she's just a plot device, fear of thunder, platonic hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment
Summary: The sound of a Thunderbird should be a sound of hope and reassurance, but not everyone hears it that way.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Sound of Thunder(birds)

There was a woman clinging onto him with a death grip. Scott was used to men, and women, and people in general, clinging to him in a death grip. It was the most common cause of bruising, despite what his brothers might quip about stupid stunts, and made sense. They were scared, their lives were in danger, he was there to save them.

She was shaking like a leaf in the breeze – again, not unusual – and somehow, despite the death grip, had one hand pressed firmly against her exposed ear. The other ear was buried firmly against his chest.

"Uh, miss?" he tried, attempting to carefully peel her away. Her grip tightened and there was a small sound that was almost certainly a whimper. "It's okay; you're safe." She wasn't even one of the casualties, just a bystander that got caught inside the perimeter. Never in any danger at all, and certainly not one of the people who actually needed him.

Except she did, didn't she, because she was clearly terrified and had latched onto him – presumably because of the IR blue – the moment he'd been in arms' reach. He had other people to help, but Virgil and Gordon were on the scene, John flickering in and out of view as he reported in, and the rescue was under control.

He glanced around, looking for someone from emergency services to take the woman so he could go help his brothers, but there was no-one available in view. Anyone he could see was busy, running triage or reassuring other distressed victims, or doing any number of important things with no time for an uninjured but quivering woman.

Well, someone had to help, and if no-one else was available, then Scott was going to have to quash his urge to run to his brothers and do his job.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. He'd asked it already and got a shake of the head, but he was really at a loss why she was still there, in the danger zone, instead of retreating to a safe distance like most of the gawkers.

She shook her head again.

"Okaay," he sighed, unintentionally drawing out the word as he ran through the facts in his head. Not injured, so scared. But scared of what? Normally the scared people fled or froze, fight or flight kicking in. She'd done neither, even when the opportunity was there. "Want me to walk you to the perimeter?"

Another shake of the head, and Scott held in another sigh.

"We'll just get in the way here," he told her. "What's wrong? Is someone you know still inside?" But then she'd be asking, not silently gripping onto him and no doubt giving him more bruises to explain away later.

"…" Something was muttered into his uniform.

"I didn't catch that?"

He felt her shift until her mouth was clear of the fabric. "Thunder."

He glanced up to where the Thunderbirds were hovering, no room for them to land.

"You mean Thunderbirds?" he asked, now thoroughly confused. She shook her head, then paused. A shrug, and a nod. "Okay, I did not understand that. You'll have to give me a little more."

"Soundslikethunder," she mumbled.

Scott loved the sound of his 'bird. Okay, so everyone would call him biased, so that wasn't really helping his case right now. Scott loved the sound of Thunderbird Two. There, better? Thunderbird Three, too, the machines roaring to the rescue to a symphony that the world over called the sound of hope.

The sound of rescue. The sound that said _everything's going to be okay_. And Scott loved that, loved that just the sound of their craft was enough to lift spirits and bring hope.

Was… was this woman _scared_ of the noise? The same noise that was supposed to reassure people? They didn't even sound like thunder… well, kinda. Scott supposed if you weren't used to plane engines it could be mistaken as such.

"You don't like thunder?" he asked, and got a vigorous shake of the head. "You… know those are plane engines and not actually thunder?"

A nod, and then a shrug.

"Doesn't make a difference?"

She shook her head.

Okay. Scott ran through the options. Land the Thunderbirds? No room, otherwise they'd already be landed. Relocate them out of earshot? That'd be too far away in case they were needed in the rescue. Find someone else for her to cling to? Everyone else was busy, and as much as he liked the emergency services – at least, the help they gave on site – one scared but otherwise entirely unharmed woman was not going to be high on their priority list.

"Do you know anyone else here?" he asked, already figuring the answer was _no_ , because why latch onto a stranger – even if he was International Rescue – if there was someone she knew and trusted nearby. Sure enough, she shook her head.

There really wasn't another choice, at least, not one he'd be able to make with a clear conscience. He pressed his baldric with the arm not awkwardly occupied with trembling woman. "Virgil, Gordon, you guys okay in there?"

"Doing fine, Scott," Virgil reassured him. "Everything's under control here. How's it topside?"

Scott glanced down at the head once again buried in his uniform. "Under control, but if you guys don't need me, I think I'll stay here."

"Problem?"

Kind of, but nothing anyone could do anything about, and certainly not something he needed Virgil worrying about.

"No problem. Keep me updated and I'll see you when you're done."

"F.A.B."

He let his hand fall from the indented _iR_ and properly wrapped his arm around the woman. She burrowed even tighter, if possible.

"Let's sit down somewhere a little further away," he suggested gently. The response was a little nod and he took that as permission to guide her closer to the triage, near the perimeter of the danger zone, where there was a low wall that looked structurally sound. He shoved at it with a foot, just to be sure, and when it didn't give, sat down on it, letting the woman curl up next to him.

"I'm Scott, by the way," he introduced himself belatedly.

"Michaela," came the muffled response. "Shouldn't you be helping them?"

"I'd like to think I'm helping _you_ ," he replied. "Am I?"

There was a heartbeat of a pause before she nodded. "Thank you."

"Any time."

**Author's Note:**

> A random idea spawned after a conversation with Nutty. This is not a self insert - my name is not Michaela for one thing - but we're definitely looking at how I'd realistically react if I ever heard a Thunderbird. I am absolutely terrified of the sound of thunder, and yes sometimes that includes plane engines (or wheelie bins going down the street, or anything that rumbles when I'm not expecting it. Van doors have been enough in the past).
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Tsari


End file.
